


Waking Up In Vegas

by relic_amaranth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Gender-neutral Reader, Good Guy Dionysus, M/M, Nightmares, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 10:10:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14376582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relic_amaranth/pseuds/relic_amaranth
Summary: You’re off with Gabriel on what’s supposed to be a little vacation, but it takes a turn for the worst when you’re forced to face your own desires and insecurities in order to make it back to him.





	Waking Up In Vegas

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Use of they/them/their for gender-neutral pronouns, mutilation and cherry-picking of Greek myths/elements thereof (so much as to be unrecognizable), some angst leading to a happy ending, Reader has a fondness for bad jokes/puns, some gore, insecure!Reader
> 
> A/N: Written for the April @gabriel-monthly-challenge prompt “I have seen it, and I can never unsee it.” on Tumblr. This…went a vastly different direction than I expected. Also it’s one of those weird things where I started writing in between episodes and I debated changing it to suit canon better but…eh, I’ve never stuck with canon before and I don’t know why I’d start now. So I think I’d place this sometime post S5 “death” but beyond that ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ It is also a little weird in general, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

  
 

“Did you see? Did you see?!”

“I have seen it, and I can never unsee it.” You groan and slam back another shot in the vain attempt to make that second part a lie. Alas.

Gabriel laughs in delight and you shake your head in mild amusement. Honestly, you’re not sure why he’s dragged you to ‘Sin City’ (“ _Fun_ City,” he’s corrected you a few times) since you don’t see yourself as terribly entertaining or that much of a good time, but he seems to be enjoying himself in spite of that. Or maybe because of it.

He hangs onto you as he continues to cackle and you duck your head to hide your ridiculous smile. You really, really, _really_ like the archangel and you really, really, _really_ don’t want him to find out about it. The teasing would be unbearable. This, though– this is nice. You’ve accepted the fact that you don’t have a chance with Gabriel, that aside from him just plain being _more_ than you could ever hope to be, he could also literally will someone better than you into existence. That thought used to hurt like hell but the sting has lessened significantly over time. Gabriel likes being around you, seeks you out for company, and respects you enough not to butt into your hunts.

It’s good. It’s really good.

You lean on him in return and shut your eyes for just a moment. He squeezes you with one arm. “Aw sugar, don’t tell me you’re tired already?”

You chuckle. “Not everyone can run around Vegas like a steamroller.”

“Mm, I guess not.” He pats your shoulder and you sit up to see him check a watch he wasn’t wearing a second ago. “And it’s 4 a.m.; if you’re going to take a nap, now’s the time.”

“Okay.” You stand up and stretch, and give him a searching look. He looks happy. A little wired. “You gonna find that group of cougars from the club?” Not that you’re envious, no sirree. They just wouldn’t appreciate him properly, that’s all.

“Nah.” Gabriel smirks. “Saw some guy yelling at a waitress earlier; she ran off in tears. He’s at the craps table.” He waggles his eyebrows meaningfully.

Oh, oh no. Your nose crinkles. “Please, please do not ever tell me about this one _ever_.” The sex scar story is now looking like it’s going to be quaint by comparison, even with the unasked for diagrams.

Gabriel laughs and you can’t deny the sound relaxes you. However that makes it pretty unhelpful; you’re exhausted and fading fast. Gabriel smiles and lifts his fingers, ready to snap. “All right, but for dad’s sake, set an alarm. You are _not_ sleeping through our vacation.”

You grin. “Wouldn’t _dream_ of it.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes but that’s okay, because he’s terrible at keeping the smile off his face, though he tries. “Sweet dreams,” he says and snaps you back to your room. You can only stumble to the bed and flop down on top of it before sleep drags you down.

 

You blink as you find yourself standing in the hotel restaurant. You feel like you were just here, eating dinner with Gabriel, but he isn’t here now and you can’t really remember how you got here. Got back here? “Gabriel?” you ask, mostly to yourself.

“ _Gabriel_?”

You jump and look around at the voice, so incredulous, and your eyes land on the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever seen. Actually, you find that you’re the center of attention; every table in the place is filled and they’re all staring at you. Oddly enough, they’re all stupidly attractive in ways you’ve only seen in magazines or your dreams.

The woman purses her full lips and you put your hands up on instinct as you back away. “I’m– I’m really sorry to interrupt; I was looking for my friend and–” Your back hits something solid and you turn to see a wall. Wait; how did you even get in here then?

Laughter washes over the room and you feel your gut clench in anxiety and embarrassment. The woman who spoke before laughs the loudest of everyone. “A _friend_ ,” she sneers. “Because that’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?”

“Uh…” Klaxons are going off in your head. You _feel_ awake. D’jinn dreams are way different than whatever this is. And nobody’s attacking, which is good because you have no weapons. Fucking hell.

You take a deep breath and look around the room. You think something moves out of the corner of your eye but you turn this way and that and see nothing other than smirks and eyes fixated on you even as they whisper amongst themselves. You spy an exit off in the corner and start making your way through the tables, but everyone is so close together that you can’t help but hear the conversations.

“They’re so plain, so _basic_.”

“Why an archangel hangs out with such a pathetic human I’ll never know.”

You stop and look around. This isn’t right but still nobody looks poised to kill– hell, nobody’s even really acknowledging your existence. They look to each other over drinks and food, and don’t even whisper anymore.

“He could have anyone he wants. Why would he want them around?”

“He must find them amusing.”

“Maybe he collects stories about them and goes to laugh about it with his _real_ friends.”

You feel like someone has just punched the air out of you. You’re in the center of the room but the door seems farther away than ever.

“There are better hunters, even, for Gabriel to spend his time with.”

“Certainly less useless ones that don’t require him to clean up after them.”

You put your hands over your ears and double over, but you can’t block the words. ‘Pathetic’ and ‘hopeless’ are a common refrain, as is the idea that Gabriel is mocking you. That he keeps you around as his own little joke.

It’s not true. It’s _not_ , you tell yourself. Gabriel gets bored and moves on. His deadlier, crueler pranks are aimed at the worst sort of people, and even then most of the time they aren’t even really deadly, just dangerous. Gabriel is a good person, and you are not the worst. He wouldn’t do that to you.

You unfold and stand and look around the insane dining room. They’re all still talking about how boring/ugly/etc you are but…as beautiful as they are, sculpted or timeless or unique, they’re all just sitting around, looking pretty and talking shit. They haven’t trailed after Gabriel on his quest to find the best pastry in Paris, or startled a laugh out of him when he was feeling down.

The words fade to the background and you square your shoulders. The door is straight ahead and, somehow, that same first woman is now at a table just before it. She’s curved and toned and sits with perfect posture, even as elegant fingers bring up a glass of wine that matches her painted lips. Next to her is an Adonis, chiseled jaw and all, and his muscles barely showing out of an expensive-looking, perfectly fitted button down shirt. Rounding out the group is an androgynous beauty who looks like they would be equally handsome in a suit or an evening gown. All of them watch you pass with sharp, intelligent eyes.

“You’ll never be enough,” the woman says as you start to push the door open.

You glance back and size them up. “If you’re content to just sit there, then you’re not one to talk.” You shove the door open.

 

It’s cold out and your jacket isn’t quite enough to protect you from the chill where your breath matches the fog around you. You stumble and for a moment you can’t remember where you are. You glance back but it’s just more wooded area. You don’t know what you expected to see.

A shadow catches your eye but it must have been a bird or something, because it’s gone right away. You sigh and look up at the grey sky. The longer this goes on, the more danger you’ll be in.

Wait, danger? What danger?

“There you are.”

You blink at the shape coming out of the mist but when you see her face you feel yourself go colder than any wind could ever manage. This isn’t real, _can’t_ be real. “You’re dead,” you say, stumbling back from the vampire you killed _years_ ago. This isn’t right; she was one of your first hunts, she almost killed y–

“Duh!” she laughs and stalks forward.

You turn and _run_.

“I can find you!” she says, echoing through the woods. You know that. You touch the ugly jagged scar on your shoulder from where you had ripped her off of you. Boy, do you know it.

It’s everything else that you don’t know, now that you have your mind back on track. This isn’t the work of a D’jinn and neither of these dreams are anything like your normal ones. You don’t know what’s going on but you're also not willing to chance just how ‘real’ these things can get.

You make it into the old sawmill and look around for anything you can use. There’s an axe set along the opposite wall but, again, there’s a dark _something_ out of the corner of your eye and you turn but it disappears.

Sharp pain blooms over your old scars and you scream as the vampire wraps her arms around you. You push off of your feet, shoving her back into a wall hard enough to dislodge her fangs from the crook of your neck. You scramble for the axe with her nipping at your heels, and as soon as you grab it you swing wildly.

The blade sinks into her head at eye level and goes halfway through her skull. The blood splatter is opposite your open wound but you will take no chances. You yank the axe out and she drops. You almost do the same but you manage to grab a dust cover and drape the filthy thing over your shoulder before you heft the axe and start swinging down, working through pain and fatigue until you finally dislodge her neck from her torso.

You fall onto your back, dizzy and exhausted from blood loss. If this is a memory, then that means…

A shadow falls over you. You barely notice it, it’s gotten so dark in here, but you smile up. “Gabriel.”

But Gabriel doesn’t frown, curse, call you a reckless idiot and immediately kneel down to heal you. He stands and stares.

“Gabriel?” you repeat.

“What?” he asks, cold and… _angelic_. “Do you think I’m going to help you? You can’t even handle one vampire. Seems like natural selection is needed here, don’t you think?”

You swallow. Every movement hurts but he– he is _not real_. “You’re not Gabriel.”

He raises both eyebrows. It’s Gabriel-esque but only in imitation. It could be anybody wearing that face. Anybody but your trickster angel. “Who else would I be, kiddo?”

“I don’t know. But you’re _not_ Gabriel,” you grit out, hanging onto consciousness by a bare thread.

Not-Gabriel lets out a low whistle. “You're losing it.” His smirk is cruel and he kneels down. “Might as well put you out of your misery.” But as he goes to grab your throat his hands pass right through you, like a ghost who can’t get a grip (hah).

“Knew you weren’t Gabriel,” you murmur as he disappears. As you fade out, you feel like you’re falling.

 

You jerk up on a bed, painless and clean. Your relief is short-lived though because you’re not in your hotel room. In fact, the room you’re in is lit only with a scarce few candles and you are surrounded by an unnatural darkness that shrouds everything outside of the candles, you, the small twin you’re now sitting up on, and a man in a chair.

He’s leaning back in the chair, ankles crossed up on the end of the bed and his hands clasped in his lap. He has a handsome face, bits of grey peppered through his otherwise dark hair, and he wears a smile like it’s his default expression. With his model looks, tan skin and smart suit, he looks like he’d be right at home on a photo shoot on a boat in the Mediterranean. However, though he looks friendly enough, his eyes show an age not unlike Gabriel.

“I am sorry for the late introduction,” he says, faintly accented. “I had to wait until you were between dreams.”

Dreams. Okay. “Who are you?”

His smile only grows. “You can call me Dion. I am a friend of Gabriel’s. I assure you I am here to help.”

You stare at him as something in your head clicks. “Dion…ysus?”

He flashes a bright white grin. “Gabriel has mentioned me, has he?”

“Um, a little bit.” You rub your head and consider the truly terrible idea of pissing off a Greek god. Eh. You’ve done worse. “He got all glossy-eyed and I asked him to please hang back on the details.”

Dion laughs, which makes you smile because that’s exactly what Gabriel had done. Gabriel. Shit. “Where is Gabriel? Is he all right?”

“I am certain he is fine,” Dion says easily. “He has survived much more than a group of demons getting their hands on an artifact and a jug of holy oil.”

You frown. “Artifact? Is that what’s behind the dreams?”

Dion holds out his hands. “Melas oneiros –‘black dreams’– courtesy of the Claw of Phobetor.”

He looks at you like he expects a reaction. Bad dreams, ancient cursed object, demons. It seems pretty straightforward but you wonder if you’re missing something. You shrug and say, “It’s all Greek to me.”

He stares for a moment and you worry you’ve offended him, but then he laughs, loud and long. It’s startling. “Oh–oh!” Dion wipes away a tear. “It is no wonder Gabriel likes you so much!”

“He would have groaned if he heard it,” you say, almost smiling despite yourself and the circumstances.

“But he would have loved it,” Dion insists.

“You really do know him.” You roll your head to loosen the ache in your neck. “Right; bad dreams. Ancient artifact.”

“To put it lightly.” Dion shrugs one shoulder. “This is a family heirloom of sorts. Quite efficient; it pits the dreamer against themselves, using their own fears and doubts to lay them low.”

“Wait…now– and even before– that was…that was just me?”

He shakes his head and his smile has a mockingly sad edge to it. “Our worst enemies do not know how to hurt us half as well as we ourselves do.”

“No kiddin’,” you mutter. You study Dion. “You can’t get the Claw from some two-bit demons yourself?”

“They don’t have it. You do.” He studies you in return. “Either the Claw kills you or you manage to eject it.” His gaze goes a little soft. “I would like to help, regardless. Gabriel and I have bonded over our…difficult families.”

“Oh.” Suddenly it hits you, how Dion is calling him ‘Gabriel’ and not ‘Loki’, like he hasn’t called him Loki in a very long time, if ever. “ _Oh_.”

Dion’s eyes regain their amused glint. “We have had many, _very_ good times as well.”

“Oh.” You regret, a little, not asking Gabriel for details now. Dion is not cut like a Greek god in the typical sense, but he is incredibly handsome. You’ll ask Gabriel later, once you get through this. “Okay. What do I need to do?”

“Survive. If you remember that these are dreams, they will not be able to harm you– like the shade from before.” Dion puts his hand near the candles. “I will not be able to slip back in. Are you ready?”

“I got this,” you say, and he extinguishes the light.

 

You’re running down a hallway, being pulled, and you can’t remember where you are or why. But it’s Gabriel leading the way and you follow him into your shared room. Any unease you may have felt alleviates when he turns to face you, grinning, and he kisses you and this is right and fine because you love him, fuck, you _love_ him so much.

“Let’s get married,” he says in between kisses as he moves down your neck.

You laugh at the joke. “You hate marriage. You said it’s dumb and antiquated and you’d never do it.”

“I would do it.” He stands up to stare into your eyes. “I’d do anything for you.”

Unease is back, twisting your gut into a knot. “That’s…not funny.”

“It’s not a joke.” Gabriel’s gaze is intense and he looms over you. “I want you.”

Something niggles at the back of your mind. You don’t know why, but this is important somehow. “What–…tell me, about Dionysus.”

Gabriel shakes his head and grabs your hand, pressing frantic kisses to it. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“He’s your friend.” You think. Right?

“I don’t need friends. I don’t need anything. I only need you.”

This. Is _not_ Gabriel. “Goddammit not again,” you hiss as you gain clarity and memories in quick succession, but the imposter grabs your shoulders and pins you to the wall.

“Come on,” Fake-riel says gently. “This is everything you want.”

“This is nothing like what I want,” you say and push forward only to get slammed back.

“You want his devotion,” Fake-riel says. “I can give that to you. You’d never know the difference. He’ll never give it to you.”

“This can’t be all my subconscious because you _suck_ at being Gabriel.” You shove him– _It_ back. “Devotion is…fuck; I want him to want me but I want _him_. I want his crappy jokes and terrible ideas; I want his temper and passion, his desire to right wrongs, even as twisted as that can be sometimes.” You swallow hard. “I’m a mayfly. I can’t be his one and only forever. I want to be his as much as I want him to be mine, but I want his stories of what he gets up to without me. I want him to be happy. Even if he doesn’t want me.”

Fake-riel says nothing, just stares like a puppet. A flash of black moves out of the corner of your eye and you reach to grab it, only to have it slip right out of your fingers.

 

Gabriel is standing in the middle of the room, facing away from you. Something moves, off to the side, but you ignore it. It isn’t important right now.

“Gabriel?” you say and step forward. He doesn’t acknowledge you. He shifts from foot to foot but still doesn’t even glance your direction.

“Gabriel,” you repeat, louder. He doesn’t turn, even though you’re the only source of noise in the room.

You want to get closer, but you’re afraid. Your heart aches for him and if you move forward he’ll know it. He’ll be able to sense the desire and the longing, and then…and then…

You’re not sure what will happen and that’s enough to scare you. But not terrify you. Gabriel is alone, and quiet, and you want to go to him, to see if he’s all right. He’ll _know_ –

–but you can’t stay here forever.

Shaking, you walk forward. As you get closer Gabriel turns and stares at you. His expression is shocked which, not good or great, but it is what it is. Slowly, you wrap your arms around him. He doesn’t react, doesn’t say a word. At first.

“I can take it away,” he says quietly. “Make it so you don’t remember me at all.”

“Don’t.” You squeeze. “Even if you don’t feel the same, I want to keep this. No matter what.”

 

You wake to an explosive pain in your head and flail your arms, trying to gain purchase. You’re pinned down and a familiar voice says, “Easy sugar; it’s all right.”

“Gabriel?” you mutter and squint at him suspiciously. He looks a little ruffled and ragged and he smells like smoke. Still, he laughs lightly. “Yeah lemon drop; it’s really me.”

Before you can dig into that there’s another twisting pain at your temple and you glance over to see Dion biting on his tongue in concentration. “What the hell is happening up here?”

“The Claw is stubborn,” he says. He looks like he’s trying to be gentle but– _ow_ , fuck that. You slip an arm away and reach up, grabbing onto something that feels dry and rough but also thin, like barely-corporeal sandpaper. Still you grab as hard as you can and _yank_ the son of a bitch right out. The pain blinds you for a moment but in the seconds after you immediately start to feel better, and you watch Dion shove it into a jar.

You stare at the little black cloud. It looks like a baby demon. “ _That’s_ a ‘claw’?”

Dion shrugs and twists the cap. “It’s a metaphor.”

You scowl. “I fucking hate metaphors.”

“I can get behind that,” Gabriel says.

Now that you’re not in agonizing pain, you size him up. Gently, you touch a burn mark that has torn through his shirt. “Are you all right? What happened?”

“I got a little close to the holy fire,” he says, almost sheepishly.

Dion laughs. “By that, he means the demon taunted him and he almost set himself ablaze trying to return to you.”

You let that be what it is. Gabriel frowns and snaps something in Greek. Maybe ancient Greek; who the hell knows. Gabriel is alive and whole and himself and that’s really all you care about right now. It’s sort of sad, though, that all of your nightmares involved a false Gabriel of some sort. You might need some therapy; this much fixation can’t be good for you.

“Well, I should be going,” Dion says and stands with his jar of nightmares. He says your name. “It was lovely to meet you. And…” He grabs your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it, giving you a little wink as well. “Be sure to ask Gabriel for those details. If you’re interested.”

You don’t even get a chance to stammer out a reply before he’s gone. Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Are you all right?” he asks, like it’s a bother. But you know he wouldn’t ask if he didn’t care.

“I’m fine,” you say and you both fall into awkward silence. There’s a lot to say. At least, there is on your end. You decide to start easy. “So…you and Dionysus?”

Gabriel blinks and throws his hands up. “It was the 12th century!”

You stare him down. “I’m gonna look up the twelfth century and there better be some truly great shenanigans going on or else I am coming for that story.”

He looks like he can’t help the smirk taking over his face. “Yeah, well…” Gabriel shrugs and leans back. “It was also the 13th century. And the 14th century. And a few times in the 15th century. And the 16th century. And…”

“Do you guys have a “Same Time, Next Year” thing going on?” you ask.

Gabriel shrugs. “We get along. He’s one of the few friends who I don’t have to hide from,” he says and looks right at you.

You look away. “Aside from your new demon friends?” you say lightly.

“They don’t know much of anything anymore,” he says with dark promise.

“Good,” you say, but you’re back to awkward silence and Gabriel is just staring at you. You try to stare in return, but he doesn’t crack a joke about being able to do this for eternity.

“No matter what, huh?”

You jerk back. “You…saw?”

He nods. You’re barely breathing. You thought you’d get a chance to say it, but–

“Me too.”

The apparent non sequitur is enough to drag you out of a panic. ‘Me…too…’ you mouth but it doesn’t make much more sense. “Wait, which part?”

Gabriel smiles brightly at you.

You take a moment to appreciate that this Gabriel is everything you missed in the fakes. Then you punch his shoulder. “You are such an _asshole_.”

He grabs you into a hug and pulls you close. “You love it.”

You roll your eyes but lean in. “God help me, I guess I do.”

“He’s not helping much these days.” Gabriel looks serious as he pulls back and stares at you. “But I can.”

You wait a moment before you ask, as casually as you can, “Oh yeah?”

Gabriel flinches for one glorious millisecond that you will treasure for the rest of your life, and then his face splits into a grin you would gladly spend the rest of your life treasuring, if you could. “You’re an asshole.”

“You love it.”

He sighs heavily but you find yourself back in his arms, his face barely a breath away from yours. “Dad help me, I think I’m getting there,” he whispers and leans in.


End file.
